


Pluto

by CaptainOptimism



Series: Space [2]
Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mentions of Cancer, More Angst Than Last Time I Think, Personal Growth, Snow Angels, kind of, quite a few of them - Freeform, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainOptimism/pseuds/CaptainOptimism
Summary: They left on a Saturday. December winds flew towards their faces as they passed along the coastline with the windows down and Mildred couldn’t quite discern if those cold bursts of air felt more like an invitation or a challenge -- A winter greeting, or a threat that taunted her with icy fingers and only seemed to amplify her uncertainty, made it linger on top of her like a heavy, white straightjacket. Gwendolyn seemed content either way.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Series: Space [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992571
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	Pluto

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! Here's another little space fic for you all!  
> I never mentioned it, but I am now realizing it may be important to note I am writing these in an order that does not match the actual,, Solar System order. I say this because Pluto is the furthest planet (yes he's a real planet again, let's argue about it) from the sun and although I'm sure no one would, I don't want anyone thinking "Wh-- this is the last one?" ANYWAY, ignore my ramblings, enjoy! (Inspirational lyrics from "Pluto" below!)  
> \---  
> Now I live a waking life  
> Of looking backwards, looking backwards  
> A model citizen of doubt  
> . . .  
> Until one day I had enough  
> Of this exercise of trust  
> I leaned in and let it hurt  
> And let my body feel the dirt  
> When I break pattern, I break ground  
> I rebuild when I break down  
> I wake up more awake than I've ever been before  
> . . .  
> The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity  
> The heaviness in my heart belongs to gravity

"Never?"

She makes it sound like it's the most inconceivable notion in the world. 

"Well I've _seen_ it before," Mildred reasons, "I've just never gotten the chance to," she hesitates, briefly pausing to finish folding the last of her blouses, "indulge in it."

Snow was one thing, among many others, that Mildred never got to enjoy as a child. Sure she'd seen it and felt it and watched it drift from the sky in brilliant little clumps if she happened to be placed in a home up in Northern California that winter. Her time spent shoveling dirty, gravel speckled sleet off of sidewalks and porch steps, however, didn't quite live up to the White-Christmas-Miracle-on-34th-Street-Winter-Wonderland fantasy that so many people often raved about. 

Snow also happened to be one thing, among many others, that made Gwendolyn's childhood so special. Chicago winters were especially brutal, but for as much as they left Gwendolyn with painfully chapped lips and wind-burned cheeks and a burning cold that lingered in her toes all season long, they never disappointed -- there was always, _always_ , snow. Snowdays and hot chocolate and socks that made it hard to shove her feet into boots. She often found herself longing for the itchy, woolen scarves her mother would gift her each year. Gwendolyn had no clue where she found the monstrosities, with their deep reds and blues just waiting to brush against Gwendolyn’s neck and chest, trapping every bit of icy moisture beneath it and leaving her with a rash that would last for days. She missed making winter memories like that, painful as they might’ve been.

But of course that wasn't the case for Mildred. Of course.

Gwendolyn crossed the room, sitting herself on the edge of the bed where Mildred continued packing. She lifted a hand and cradled Mildred's face. "Darling, I.. shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry," the apology was, as all the others were, genuine. Warm.

Mildred met her with a smile, leaning into Gwendolyn's grasp and pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "No need. It's sort of funny, actually. Snow never really crosses my mind until Christmas rolls around, and even then, my holidays have never been particularly festive, so," she glances to the floor briefly, considering her own thoughts before glancing back to Gwendolyn, "I can't say I really feel that I'm missing out."

She almost couldn't believe her ears. _Not missing out_ ? On _snow_? But winter is.. the best.

"You seem confused," Mildred observed simply, furrowing her own brows to match the expression on Gwendolyn's face that had apparently been resting on her features for a moment too long.

There was a single moment of silence that passed between the women before an idea flooded into the older woman’s head, and had she been in a better condition Gwendolyn would've shot up from the bed like a rocket.

"We'll go to Big Bear."

"Excuse me?" If she weren't so enraptured in her own stroke of genius she would've laughed at the shock on Mildred's face, how her eyebrows shot as high as they’d reach. As if Gwendolyn had just proposed the two of them take all of their belongings and scatter them into the Pacific. She'd never seen the woman so surprised.

"A drive up North! It's perfect," now both of Mildred's hands were sandwiched between Gwendolyn's, and Mildred, for a moment, got a glimpse of the electricity that seemed to crackle in the atmosphere whenever she shared one of her intricate, perfectly laid out plots with the redhead. It was intense. "We're already driving out of the country for Christ's sake, what's a six hour detour?"

" _Language_ ," Mildred admonished, moving the suitcase out of her path as she took a seat next to Gwendolyn. Her Gwendolyn who, heaven bless her, never seemed to let the destruction of her treatments reach the fire behind her eyes, even as they wreaked havoc on her physical form. As the two sat now, face to face, hand in hand, Gwendolyn looked more alive than the day Mildred first met her. She wasn’t, though, and that was a fact that stifled the air in their bedroom.

"What's a _six hour_ detour?" she echoed, hoping Gwendolyn could reason this one out herself if she only heard what she was really suggesting. "The reason we're leaving the country, dear, is so that we can get you healthy again, so that we can cure you," again Mildred spoke like the answer was the clearest thing in the world. "I'm not wasting anymore time. Not when we have so much to do together."

"And what if Mexico doesn't work?"

Mildred felt something akin to anger rise in her throat. She set her jaw and stared across from her, waiting for Gwendolyn to make her next move. The defenses were up.

"Excuse me?"

Gwendolyn, steady and deliberate with her next words, let a soft smile set across her features, even as she watched Mildred’s eyes redden and face seem to drain of color. "Your conviction and your persistence mean the world to me. I feel it every day and every night and I could've never imagined being loved like this. Getting the chance to love someone so important, so special -- not in my wildest dreams. But the world will not bend at our persuasion, and we cannot just _will_ this cancer out of me. So my intention, Mildred, is to spend each coming day as if we were driving head first into the fire. As if my expiration date were tomorrow. Because it might be, though I can’t say I really care all that much as long as I have you here to love me."

Mildred let Gwendolyn's words echo through her head. She'd never felt so still before in her life, though her tears hadn't seemed to stop moving since Gwendolyn opened her mouth. The weight of their precarious situation sat imposing on her chest.

They left on a Saturday. December winds flew towards their faces as they passed along the coastline with the windows down and Mildred couldn’t quite discern if those cold bursts of air felt more like an invitation or a challenge -- A winter greeting, or a threat that taunted her with icy fingers and only seemed to amplify her uncertainty, made it linger on top of her like a heavy, white straightjacket. Gwendolyn seemed content either way.

Mildred spent the first three hours of the trip glancing back and forth between the roadmap in Gwendolyn's hand and the road ahead of them, worrying her thumb between her teeth. Gwendolyn spent the first three hours of the trip with her head relaxed against the window, drifting in and out of vivid daydreams as she watched the road rush beneath their car, as she watched Mildred's thoughts rush through her without permission.

"Mexico will wait for us."

The sun had already started retreating behind the horizon as they pulled up to a rustically constructed cabin, large and inviting. Slush and wet dirt caked Mildred’s shoes the second she stepped out of the car, and before any comments could leave her mouth, Gwendolyn shot a knowing look Mildred's way. She stayed seated in the car as Mildred rushed up to the entrance, the cold pin pricking her skin with every move she made.

Mildred, ever the organizer, had called in advance to book a cabin for her husband and herself. She'd found herself smiling in spite of herself as she'd told the lie over the phone.

It took her all of 5 minutes to retrieve the keys and scurry back to the car, but the wind had a way of sucking the air out of her chest, of hitting her face as if it were aiming directly for her. She quickly slid back into the driver's seat, huffing as she slammed her door shut with perhaps more gusto than she'd intended.

"Everything alright?"

Mildred had readied herself to grumble out a few choice words, but she glanced towards Gwendolyn before she opened her mouth.

Gwendolyn had tucked her legs under herself, letting the flannel blanket she'd become rather attached to cover every inch of her legs and torso. The only parts of her that remained visible were her ever softening face, and the tired, reddened hands that held their thermos of coffee they'd brought along for the ride. The sun was showing it's true colors against the darkening sky, glowing orange and setting a kind of fire to everything around them, including Gwendolyn. The luminance seemed to blur parts of her face and it made Gwendolyn appear unmarred by time, like she was immune from the physical effects of illness, of worry. She was astonishing, not that that was ever a question, and Mildred melted.

"Perfect," it left her mouth as more of a defined breath than a coherent word, but the smile on Gwendolyn's face told Mildred she understood. She understood.

They managed to find their driveway after about ten minutes of Mildred navigating through a dark forest to the best of her abilities. In actuality the drive should've taken, at most, three minutes, but Gwendolyn wasn't about to chastise Mildred. Not when she was trying so hard and so clearly frustrated by the overwhelming amount of identical trees and the way the beams from their headlights were reflected off of the newly frozen snowbanks.

Another huff from Mildred as she finally, finally put the car into park.

Gwendolyn took note and inched closer to Mildred, resting her nose against the coat covered shoulder beside her, blue eyes sparkling with a kind of mischievous joy that Mildred hadn't seen since their first trip to the oyster bar.

Mildred quirked an eyebrow, glancing to her side to address the woman that looked more like a fleece and flannel cotton ball than her lover with the way she was wrapped up in what seemed to be no less than fifty sweaters. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Mildred dropped all facades at that, softening against Gwendolyn's touch, leaning against the nose that now nuzzled the side of her face. "We leave for Mexico on Monday, promise," and though Mildred nodded at the words whispered against her skin, she would've agreed to stay up here forever if it meant staying like this with Gwendolyn, so intertwined that neither woman could move an inch -- neither wanted to.

The two walked arm in arm through the front door, the four hands hidden beneath gloves and coat sleeves twisted together in a sort of Celtic knot of warmth. They were greeted by a space rather minimalistic in it's design, every piece of furniture big enough for two and only two. Gwendolyn hadn't seemed to notice anything apart from the floor to ceiling windows that adorned either side of the fireplace. They were granted a perfect view of the mountains in the distance, the snow seeming to glow in front of a purple sky, a white blanket that looked as if it might disintegrate if it were touched. They were perfectly alone, aside from a smattering of a few other cabins across the lake, visible only because of their soft yellow lights that bled through the evergreens.

" _Oh_ ," Gwendolyn breathed, eyes glued to the scene in front of her. Mildred perked her head up, rushing up behind Gwendolyn as if she were preparing to face a threat to their lives.

"What is it? Is it not --"

"Don't you dare," Gwendolyn interjected with a watery voice, turning and taking a hold of Mildred's forearms. "It is perfect and you are perfect and I love you, I love you, _I love you_." Each word sounded as if it were her last, and while it worried Mildred, it was hard to focus on anything but the hands that gripped shoulders, hands, face. It was as if Gwendolyn were sure Mildred were only a figment of her imagination and her fingers would, at some point, grasp right through the younger woman, left holding empty air.

It was hard to keep her composure when she was so sure, for maybe the first time in her life, that she had done something right. There was no doubt in her mind, at least not anymore, that she was the reason Gwendolyn stood before her, so overwhelmed by bliss that it looked like it might destroy her. She pulled Gwendolyn to her, crossing her arms over the shorter woman's back, as if to send a message to the universe: ‘ _This one's mine.’_

They stood tangled together in the center of the room until Mildred felt a familiar shudder roll through her.

"Cold?" Gwendolyn pulled her face away just enough to meet Mildred's eyes.

If she wasn't so familiar with Gwendolyn, Mildred might've described her smile as smug, and it might've annoyed her. It didn't.

"Very much so. Why don't you get out of your coat and I'll start the fire, hm?"

"Trying to get me out of my coat, are we?" There she was.

Mildred's eye roll seemed to last for a full minute. "You're incorrigible. Now go," the instructions were delivered softly, though they were accompanied by a swat to the hip. And a smile -- always a smile.

By the time Gwendolyn finished putting their bags in the back room and shedding her many, _many_ layers of outerwear, Mildred was meticulously poking around the flames that ripped and roared around each log. Mildred heard the redhead gently poking around in the kitchen behind her, but by the time she could raise any questions, she was being handed a warm mug of tea, which she immediately recognized to be spiked.

"Comfortable?" Gwendolyn sat beside her, using Mildred's shoulder to slowly ease herself to the ground.

Mildred put the blow poke she was fiddling with to the side, gripping her mug and leaning against Gwendolyn's form. "Now I am," she conceded. In any other situation, Gwendolyn would've received the remark as flirtatious, but she knew Mildred was far too tired for quips. She could feel it in the way the brunette let her shoulders slump forward, the way she seemed to fall into Gwendolyn's touch, melting against her. She kissed the top of her head, her hair slightly frizzed from the change in temperature, and reveled in the scent of Mildred. Slightly perfume-y because Mildred could never resist a spritz before they left home, but always warm, always that beautiful kind of earthy scent that made Gwendolyn believe she was bathed in the sun itself before she came down to earth.

They finished their tea by the fire Saturday night, and before they knew it, they were wrapped in a quilt they'd found under the couch, holding onto each other like the night would be their last together and letting the fire die down slowly, slowly, slowly in front of them. On Sunday morning, Mildred awoke alone on the floor.

She immediately noticed the smell of stale ash that filled the room and she rubbed her eyes of sleep as she searched for Gwendolyn. All she'd found was their mugs from the night prior, now half full with cold tea, and a blinding light coming from the windows before her. She rose from the floor, intent on shielding her eyes from the sun with the grand, sweeping curtains that looked as if they could be used as parachutes in a time of crisis. Then, almost as if a deity had touched down to earth before her, Gwendolyn's figure seemed to emerge from a burst of light. It was snowing gently-- though it was hard to make out against the white sky -- almost as if the skies knew how appreciative Gwendolyn would be of them. Mildred let her eyes adjust and took note of the woman sitting just beside the lake, clearly making use of a chair left outside for summer vacationers as she stared out at the ice. She sat bundled up, letting flakes frame her figure as she used a bare hand to trace circles in the packed snow that only sat inches from her hand. It was beautiful. Like winter itself had anthropomorphized into this snow angel of a woman.

Mildred, however, felt a jolt of panic as she took in the sight before her. It must be well below freezing. She walked quickly towards the front door, ready to sprint towards the redhead with a blanket and a scolding, before she made the startling realization that socked feet would not do in this weather. So she bundled.. begrudgingly so.

By the time Mildred had made it out to Gwendolyn she was panting slightly. The boots they'd purchased for her last minute were just big enough that walking was much more difficult than it should've been for a grown woman. Her hat threatened to cover her eyes with every boisterous step she took, and her jacket (the one she'd insisted on wearing over her other jacket) made it feel like she'd lost all of the bendiness in her elbows. She hadn't noticed Gwendolyn was watching her until she was a foot away.

"Good morning, sweetness," the greeting was laced with teasing, and Mildred picked up on it instantly.

"Are you trying to freeze to death?" Mildred, who couldn’t seem to cross her arms when she was constrained by winter wear, stood before Gwendolyn who was tucked into herself like she would be if she were cuddled into the well-loved leather chair that sat in her office back home. She looked so natural; At peace.

Gwendolyn opened her arms to Mildred, who hesitated before trying to deposit herself as gently as she could into her lap. Gwendolyn let out an _'oof'_ as she landed, quickly followed by a chuckle. She pressed a kiss to the spot of Mildred's hat that covered the tip of her ear and immediately pulled the younger woman closer.

"Don't be a grump," Gwendolyn chastised, running her fingers through what little bit of Mildred's tangled hair stuck out from the collar of her coat. Mildred clearly resented the remark, but before she could shoot back, "no really. Just sit here with me. That’s all I want."

Mildred was skeptical, but she gave in, curling onto her side and further into Gwendolyn, letting the snow hit her temple, her lips, occasionally getting stuck in her lashes.

"It kind of.. stings," Mildred remarked, all of the worry and annoyance gone from her voice now-- it was a simple observation.

"Doesn't everything?"

Mildred sat with her words. She felt Gwendolyn smile above her, but her own face stayed unchanging -- Gwen was right. Everything stung, especially now. Now, when every moment of happiness they shared felt like it might soon be nothing but a memory Mildred had to fall back on. Now, when the strongest person she'd ever met, the only person Mildred truly believed to be invincible, unbreakable, was showing all of the signs of losing to life. She wasn't going out easy, that was for sure, but life was making a dent. The dents seemed to come more frequently now. But.

But they were happy. And God help her, she knew in her heart of hearts that even if Gwen left tomorrow, even if she were to go back to walking around empty and alone and scared, at least she got to love her. At the very least, she got to tell Gwendolyn how important she was. Cancer was just the sting of the snow.

She'd be damned if she weren't going to try to keep Gwendolyn here forever, though.

Gwendolyn swiped a snowflake off of the tip of Mildred's nose and let her hand linger on the side of her face, tracing her features that had become flushed from the cold. What a beautiful sight had been born from the winter.

"Mexico tomorrow," Gwendolyn promised. Her voice sounded clear, strong, sure. Rejuvenated from the indulgence in her memories. Mildred crossed her fingers in her lap, though she knew it was a silly gesture. She hoped for snow in Mexico.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo? How is everyone, did you enjoy yourself??  
> ...  
> Promise??
> 
> (Comments appreciated as always <3)


End file.
